Brett’s POV
He didn’t move.
That ragged-looking wolf, curled in the corner, just stared at for the long seconds after I was shoved in and the heavy door clanged shut. Utterly still, like a wild animal assessing a threat or an opportunity, radiating a clear ’don’t ss with ’ vibe. I froze by the door, the loose chain of the single remaining cuff on my wrist swaying slightly with my uneven breaths, tinking softly against the tal.
Ti crawled through the stale air. My palms were slick with sweat, but strangely, the instinctive tremor I’d feel facing an enemy was absent. His scent was complex—dust, old blood, cheap tobacco, and sothing... bitter. But it held no focused, tearing--apart malice.
Finally, he shifted. Not an attack, just adjusting into a slightly less cramped position against the cold wall. Those eyes, gleaming faintly with a tawny-gold tint in the gloom, remained locked on .
"New?" His voice was low, rough like sandpaper on tin, with an accent I couldn’t place—not pure Arican English, the vowels slurred and rounded.
I nodded, my throat too dry for words.
"A kid?" His gaze swept over , his brow furrowing slightly. "They’re scooping up kids now?"
"...I’m fourteen," I whispered, unsure why I told the truth. Maybe because his question held no interrogation, just... curiosity.
He let out a short, humorless huff of air. "Fourteen. Still wet behind the ears." He paused, his eyes flicking to the cuff on my wrist and away. "Listen up, pup. In here, no matter why they tossed you, rember a few things."
I listened intently.
"First, don’t piss off the uniforms. Answer what they ask, but don’t offer extra. They’re not cops. Not the kind you know."
My stomach dropped. I knew it.
"Second," his gaze sharpened, "when you use the facilities," he jerked his chin toward the exposed stainless-steel toilet in the corner, "always check your six. *Always*. Sleeping too. Back to the wall."
A chill skittered down my spine. I gripped the hem of my shirt.
"Third, don’t trust anyone easy. Including ." He said it flatly, like stating the most obvious fact in the world.
I nodded again. Dad had taught similar things about caution, about safety. But never in such a blunt, concrete way, inside a place so filthy and oppressive.
Silence fell again. But questions bubbled inside like boiling water. This man who knew the rules, slled like kin but was clearly in a bad way...
"Where... where is this?" I finally found the courage to ask. "Who are they?"
He studied for a mont, weighing his answer. Then he shrugged, the movent making his worn leather jacket creak softly. "Who knows. So official or semi-official ’special containnt’ hole. Been in three days, still piecing it together. As for them... people who specialize in ’our’ kind of ’problem.’" He tapped his temple, then his eye, hinting at the extra senses. "Hunters? Governnt spooks? Who cares. They know what we are."
*We.* He said ’we.’
I licked my chapped lips, heart hamring. The next question burst out. "You... you’re a werewolf too, right?"
This ti, he actually smiled, showing teeth that were uneven but white. The smile didn’t reach his eyes, just added a layer of weariness and mockery. "Observant, pup. Yeah. The genuine article." He tilted his head. "You? Sll... off. A whiff of us, but faint. Raw. Haven’t had your first moon yet?"
My face ward, as if he’d pointed out a flaw. "...Not yet," I admitted, looking down. In the pack, being my age without a first shift wasn’t common, but it happened. Admitting it here, to this dangerous stranger, felt especially vulnerable.
I felt his gaze linger on . Sothing shifted in it. Not contempt. More like... a complicated, distant... pity?
"Fourteen. No first shift. And tossed in a place like this," he murmured, shaking his head. "What the hell did you do to get on their radar? Joyriding? A fight? Flash a claw at so unlucky security cara?"
I gave him the short version—riding with Aurora, the police chase, how these n took . My chest tightened ntioning Aurora. Where was she?
He was quiet for a beat after I finished. "The girl on the bike... you sure she got away?"
"She’s tough," I said, with a confidence I didn’t fully feel. "She’ll get away. And... she’ll co for ." *I hope.*
"Let’s hope." He sounded unconvinced. He leaned back against the wall again, closing his eyes, effectively ending the conversation.
But I had more questions. About him. This stray wolf who seed to know the rules of a place like this, who looked like he’d been scraping the bottom for a long ti.
"You... what’s your na?" I ventured.
He didn’t open his eyes. "Luka."
"Luka. Are you... a stray?" I rembered Mom and Dad ntioning them sotis—wolves without a fixed pack, surviving alone on city fringes or wilder places. Usually wary. Life was hard for them.
"Mhm," he grunted, an acknowledgnt.
"Why are you... here?" The question was out before I could stop it. Too personal.
Luka opened his eyes. This ti his look held more scrutiny, and a kind of weary honesty. "Why? ’Cause I’m stupid, okay?" He gave a bitter twist of his mouth. "My old man was a gangster bastard. Mom washed dishes at ’Chili Peppers’ till her fingers curled. ? Grew up on the streets. Smoking, fighting, lifting stuff. Then got into the wrong shit..." His voice trailed off, grew vague for a second, then sharpened again with self-mockery. "Knew it was poison. Hated myself for it. Thought about changing, for real. Get a straight job, even hauling bricks... But sotis, you wallow in the mud too long. Trying to climb out, your feet just slip."
He paused, his gaze going distant, as if seeing through the iron door. "Didn’t even get a real chance to start climbing before I got stamped out. Two guys in cop uniforms, built like bears, cuffed coming out of a convenience store, shoved in an unmarked van. Woke up here."
I listened in silence. That life, that family, that struggle... it was a completely foreign world to . Jacob and Selena gave a ho that was strict but full of love and safety. The pack was my backup. My worries were things like Kai and Lex’s childish taunts, or anxiety about the late shift. Luka... his world was dirt, danger, and despair.
"What about... your family? Your pack?" I asked softly.
"Pack?" Luka snorted as if I’d said sothing funny. "No pack, kid. My old man? Dead in a ditch sowhere years back. Mom? Haven’t contacted her in ages. Maybe she’s happier thinking I’m dead too." His tone was flat, but underneath that flatness was sothing hard, sothing that refused to be touched.
I didn’t know what to say. Any comfort would sound pathetic. We sat in the dim light, a few paces apart, wrapped in silence. He was a stray, fighting the current, his chance for change seemingly cut off. I was a pack pup, sheltered from the storm, tossed into this cage before I’d even learned to run.
The cuff was cold on my wrist. I slowly slid down to sit on the floor, my back against the icy door, watching the ragged, unbroken figure across from .
Luka. I rembered the na.
*
Lily’s POV
Playing the part of a proper Luna is exhausting.
Yes, I’ll admit it. I’m *playing a part*. Every morning, before Ethan even stirs, I’m up, practicing that perfectly balanced smile in the mirror—warm yet unapproachable, regal. My closet is stuffed with expensive, impeccably tailored suits and dresses, fabrics that feel like water, colors carefully chosen to suit the ’Alpha’s Mate’—deep blues, burgundies, pearl grays. I have to slow my speech, asure my words, not blurt out the first thing that cos to mind like I used to. Move with grace, even when I want to kick over the chair of so pack mber droning on about border skirmishes.
More than once, I’ve dread. Dreams where I’m still that Lily in worn jeans and a flannel shirt, hair in a ssy ponytail, blushing for hours over a kiss from Ethan. Running through the woods, laughing under the moon, fighting over nothing and making up just as fast. Back when anger and joy were both so direct, so... *alive*.
But the dream always ends. Waking from those faded, pine-scented mories to see Ethan’s slightly furrowed brow even in sleep, the opulent but cold chandelier in our bedroom, the sleek, unfamiliar feel of high-thread-count sheets... it takes minutes to steady myself. *Deep breaths, Lily. You’re the Luna now. Mate to Alpha Ethan. The female face of the Moonlight Pack, one of the largest in the state. You have duties. Obligations. Hundreds of eyes on you.*
Then I rise, wash, put on the ’armor,’ fix the smile-mask, and begin another day of the performance.
The biggest headache isn’t the tedious pack politics or the fake socializing. It’s my kids. Aurora and Lex.
God, they’re even more clueless, more rebellious, more convinced of their own invincibility than I ever was!
Aurora, eighteen, should be preparing to be a strong pack mber, learning managent, history, social graces. Instead? She’s in her black leather jacket, tinkering with that obnoxiously loud motorcycle, sneering at every ’beneficial’ gathering or youth exchange I arrange, looking at like I’m a relic.
Lex, sixteen, future Alpha, deep in the ’center of the universe’ teenage phase. He’s trying to mimic his father’s stoic act, but it cos off as just prickly and insufferably arrogant, deaf to anything his mother or sister says.
Looking at them, I sotis see a ghost of my own parents’ faces, staring at their stubborn, rebellious daughter with that mix of fury, worry, and helplessness. History has a nasty habit of repeating itself. I *understand* the need to break free, to prove yourself. I was there. But understanding doesn’t an the rules fly out the window!
Curfew is my line. Ho by eleven. The city isn’t our old forest territory. It’s crowded, eyes everywhere, dangers hidden under neon lights, and our kind... we have to be careful. They can have fun, but they have to be back.
So, when the deep, resonant chis of the expensive antique grandfather clock in the main hall echoed through the vast space, striking eleven, I imdiately put down the pack budget report I hadn’t been reading and picked up my phone.
Aurora first.
The line rang and rang, then went to voicemail. No answer.
I frowned. That damn girl, ignoring on purpose again? I pushed down the flare of anger, mixed with that old, familiar maternal dread. She promised she wouldn’t be out late! That little brat Lex had at least slunk into his room an hour ago, slling faintly of beer, but he was *ho*.
Aurora was crossing the line.
"Aurora, you’d better have a perfect excuse, like your phone fell into a sewer..." I muttered, jabbing at the screen to send a text.
But a restless anxiety made sitting impossible. I stood up, the hem of my expensive silk robe whispering over the polished marble floor. I strode down the hall to Lex’s door and didn’t bother knocking, just turned the handle and pushed it open.
"Lex!"
My voice must have been louder than I intended because Lex, headphones on, jerked violently in his gaming chair, ripping the headset off. His face was a mix of shock and violated outrage.
"Mom!" he yelped, his sixteen-year-old voice still rough at the edges. "You’re supposed to wait for ’co in’! I’m an adult, I need privacy!"
*Bullshit adult.* I looked at the new, angry pimple on his chin, the bloodshot eyes from gaming too late, and my simring worry and anger boiled over into sothing hotter.
"Call your sister," I commanded, my voice icy. "Now. Right now. You tell her if she isn’t standing in front of in ten minutes, or gives one hell of a convincing reason why not, I will personally go drag her ass back here—whether she’s in so godforsaken bar or on that stupid racetrack!"
Lex blinked, clearly startled by my tone, or maybe finally realizing his mother was at the end of her rope. He muttered sothing, then grudgingly picked up his phone and started dialing.
I stood in the doorway, arms crossed, my heart beating an uneven rhythm in my chest. The city lights glittered brilliantly outside the window, but they did nothing to dispel the shadow settling over .
*Aurora, you impossible girl.*
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